The Hidden Meaning of Blood Meridian

Blood Meridian is among the greatest Gnostic works of literature; it is so Gnostic it almost reads like gospel. The book is not structured as a conventional narrative; it is like a symbolist painting that was transposed into a novel. And this painting portrays, superficially, a violent scene of war, in which frenzied men kill for sport. But digging deeper, we can identify various symbols of hidden truths about the universe in its micro and macrocosm.

In Blood Meridian, the physical world is hell itself; nature is but the law of dark matter, and the chimeric adherents of it - the earthly creatures, with men being nature's magnum opus - are compelled by their very essence to devour one another.

Judge Holden is Satan made flesh; the Antichrist. And the Devil is nature personified; the raw energy and the base instinct of all animals, men among them (see my articles 'Who Rules This World?' and Nature Is the Work of the Devil'). Thus, Holden is the master of the natural world, the supreme material being; to him, God is War; and he is the God of War.

The book begins with McCarthy poetically denouncing the loss of innocence of a child as the irrational and violent world of men shaped him. The character is but an archetype, the visage of humanity.

''He can neither read nor write and in him broods already a taste for mindless violence. All history present in that visage, the child the father of the man.''

And just as the child is the archetypal man, the Judge too is an archetypal character; the tempter, the Adversary, Lucifer.

''An enormous man dressed in an oilcloth slicker had entered the tent and removed his hat. He was bald as a stone and he had no trace of beard and he had no brows to his eyes nor lashes to them.''

The Judge's appearance is extremely peculiar, and emblematic of his character. He is tall and wide, a powerful figure, a giant among men; his skin as pale as white chalk, and he has not a hair on his body, he's bald with no eyebrows. He's a subversion of the Angelic being, for he is a fallen angel. His lack of eyebrows makes his inhuman face seem permanently emotionless, and his lack of hair indicates he's beyond nature, a perfected man disconnected from his animalistic roots. His abnormal whiteness a symbol of purity, but of subverted purity in this sense, as his soul is the darkest. His bald head is equated with a stone - for his head is like a stone, a ball of matter devoid of true light.

And just like the Judge is bald - unenlightened -, his followers scalp their own kin for profit - scalping being a way of taking one's soul. They are demons, and as such can only walk over the hedonic treadmill, away from Heaven; they spend all of their riches in drinks and women and must then kill more men to repeat the cycle until they die.

''His face was serene and strangely childlike. His hands were small. He held them out.''

He emanates an aura of serenity and childlikeness, for he is like a distortion of Adam before Sin, or perhaps like an Angel in Paradise (in reality he is Lucifer in Hell). His small hands too are emblematic of his refined character. So, the Judge simultaneously looks and carries himself like light personified and like darkness personified - he is white and black, he is the primordial oil, the Demiurge.

Holden's name means ''of/from the hollow/deep valley'' - for he is the god of the material world, of the abyss. His dark hat being a symbol of the eclipsed, dark sun.

''The governor's a learned man himself he is, but the judge...''

And true to his nature, he is, superficially, an enlightened man; he is supremely intelligent, versed in all languages, he's an artist, an archeologist and paleontologist, a musician, a talented diplomat - he excells in all intellectual pursuits. Though he is the most foolish, paradoxically, for he is Chaos personified.

''Ladies and gentlemen I feel it my duty to inform you that the man holding this revival is an imposter. He holds no papers of divinity from any institution recognized or improvised. He is altogether devoid of the least qualification to the office he has usurped and has only committed to memory a few passages from the good book for the purpose of lending to his fraudulent sermons some faint flavor of the piety he despises.''

The first words uttered by the Judge are lies and false accusations, which he tells smoothly and naturally. And his words serve to create a frenzy in which a mob stupidly lynch the preacher - and the preacher could tell the man was the devil. With mere words, the Judge is able to manipulate men like puppets.

''This is him, cried the reverend, sobbing. This is him. The devil. Here he stands.''

The Judge is the anti-messiah, the Antichrist; those who follow him do so because they want material salvation, physical emancipation, and that he grants them - and dooms them to corruption and leads them to death as a result. Indeed, the Judge has an exceptional talent for attracting wealth; he is - quite literally - a magician with power over money, over gold.

Near the book's ending there's a scene in which the Judge performs a magic trick: he tosses a coin into the fire and, like if it were attracted by a powerful magnet, the coin jumps back into his palm. He is the king of all kings of the Earth, for he holds total control over all that is dark; the inversion of Christ. Note also that the fire relates to humanity in Blood Meridian, as explained before; the Judge casts his coin into the fire - just as he bestows gold upon men - and with equal ease, takes it away.

"The flames sawed in the wind and the embers paled and deepened and paled and deepened like the bloodbeat of some living thing eviscerate upon the ground before them and they watched the fire which does contain within it something of men themselves inasmuch as they are less without it and are divided from their origins and are exiles. For each fire is all fires, the first fire and the last ever to be."

Fire contains light; it is light in burning form. Thus, men, who contain within them souls of light, and are joined in the kingdom of Heaven, are parallel to fire. Fire is as creative as it is destructive; its influence depends on the will of the man who manipulates it.

''He was the first to the rim of the cone for all the size of him and he stood gazin about like he'd come for the view. Then he set down and he begun to scale at the rock with his knife. One by one we straggled up and he set with his back to that gapin hole and he was chippin away and he called upon us to do the same. It was brimstone. A weal of brimstone all about the rim of the caldron, bright yellow and shining here and there with the little flakes of silica but most pure flowers of sulphur. We chipped it loose and chopped it fine with our knives till we had about two pounds of it and then the judge took the wallets and went to a cupped place in the rock and dumped out the charcoal and the nitre and stirred them about with his hand and poured the sulphur in. I didnt know but what we'd be required to bleed into it like freemasons but it was not so. He worked it up dry with his hands and all the while the savages down there on the plain drawin nigh to us and when I turned back the judge was standin, the great hairless oaf, and he'd took out his pizzle and he was pissin into the mixture, pissin with a great vengeance and one hand aloft and he cried out for us to do likewise. We were half mad anyways. All lined up. Delawares and all. Every man save Glanton and he was a study. We hauled forth our members and at it we went and the judge on his knees kneadin the mass with his naked arms and the piss was splashin about and he was cryin out to us to piss, man, piss for your very souls for cant you see the redskins yonder, and laughin the while and workin up this great mass in a foul black dough, a devil's batter by the stink of it and him not a bloody dark pastryman himself I dont suppose and he pulls out his knife and he commences to trowel it across the southfacin rocks, spreadin it out thin with the knifeblade and watchin the sun with one eye and him smeared with blacking and reekin of piss and sulphur and grinnin and wieldin the knife with a dexterity that was wondrous like he did it every day of his life. And when he was done he set back and wiped his hands on his chest and then he watched the savages and so did we all.''

Like Christ, Judge too performs miracles - though his miracles are for war and death. Like a witch, the Judge stirs a cauldron, a crucible of brimstone to distill death from it. The charcoal, the foul black dough are symbols for the prima materia of Chaos, dilluted darkness; and sulphur/brimstone - the yellow, bright, shining substance - is like fool's gold.

There's a scene in which the kid dreams of the Judge:

''This other man he could never see in his entirety but he seemed an artisan and a worker in metal. The judge enshadowed him where he crouched at his trade but he was a coldforger who worked with hammer and die, perhaps under some indictment and an exile from men's fires, hammering out like his own conjectural destiny all through the night of his becoming some coinage for a dawn that would not be. It is this false moneyer with his gravers and burins who seeks favor with the judge and he is at contriving from cold slag brute in the crucible a face that will pass, an image that will render this residual specie current in the markets where men barter. Of this is the judge judge and the night does not end.''

Throughout the book, fire is equated with all of humanity; thus, the Judge is the shadow cast by the fire - he enshadows men and is exiled from their fires, from their souls, which is why he tries to tempt them through earthly desire, through their material halves which know only to covet.

The Judge's worldview is that of a false creator; of the master of a false reality, of a false paradise. He thinks it's all a game, and views men and all living creatures as husks of sin and depravity. His power urges him to comprehend and claim all things; as king of the world, he demands submission from all within his domain; his hobby of drawing and cataloguing every unique thing he encounters is tied to the pseudo-superstitious notion that capturing an image of something is a way of capturing its soul.

'''The freedom of birds is an insult to me. I'd have them all in zoos.'

'That would be a hell of a zoo.'

'The judge smiled. Yes, he said. Even so.'''

The Judge believes freedom to be a personal insult to him, for he is the jailer of the world. Christ was the opposite - He was like a bird who opened His wings as His arms were nailed to the cross, a white dove who flew to Heaven through martyrdom to show us all how we could be freed from the Earth.

To me, the scene which perfectly portrays the book's meaning is that in which the Judge and Tobin speak of war and God.

'''The judge smiled. Men are born for games. Nothing else. Every child knows that play is nobler than work. He knows too that the worth or merit of a game is not inherent in the game itself but rather in the value of that which is put at hazard. Games of chance require a wager to have meaning at all. Games of sport involve the skill and strength of the opponents and the humiliation of defeat and the pride of victory are in themselves sufficient stake because they inhere in the worth of the principals and define them. But trial of chance or trial of worth all games aspire to the condition of war for here that which is wagered swallows up game, player, all. Suppose two men at cards with nothing to wager save their lives. Who has not heard such a tale? A turn of the card. The whole universe for such a player has labored clanking to this moment which will tell if he is to die at that man's hand or that man at his. What more certain validation of a man's worth could there be? This enhancement of the game to its ultimate state admits no argument concerning the notion of fate. The selection of one man over another is a preference absolute and irrevocable and it is a dull man indeed who could reckon so profound a decision without agency or significance either one. In such games as have for their stake the annihilation of the defeated the decisions are quite clear. This man holding this particular arrangement of cards in his hand is thereby removed from existence. This is the nature of war, whose stake is at once the game and the authority and the justification. Seen so, war is the truest form of divination. It is the testing of one's will and the will of another within that larger will which because it binds them is therefore forced to select. War is the ultimate game because war is at last a forcing of the unity of existence. War is god.'

'I'll not secondsay you in your notions, said Tobin. Dont ask it.'

'Ah Priest, said the judge. What could I ask of you that you've not already given?'''

By following the Judge, Tobin - the ex-priest - handed to him his own soul; he became an apostle of the Antichrist.

In the novel's ending, the Kid - a character who's the archetypal son of man - falls prey to the Judge's corruption. His hope vanished from him as time went on and he couldn't find meaning in life; he could never read his own Bible. His innocence had left him alongside that hope; and in order to be fulfilled at last, he allowed the Judge to take hold of him. He couldn't get it up to make love to that prostitute; but right after we learn that the girl who cried for the bear went missing, and the men who opened the door of the cabin where the Man was with the Judge saw something too hideous to say. (...)

And this is it for this post. Thank you for your continued support! I am currently working on a new Demon's Souls video, all the while making notes for the next DS3 video. ;)